There!
The vessel he had sighted was even nearer now. He raisedan arm and waved it. He tore off his shirt and held it high,rippling in the wind like a banner.
He did this until his arm grew numb. When he looked againthe ship was nearer still, though there was no indication thathe had been sighted. From what appeared to be their relativemovements, it seemed that he might well drift past it in amatter of minutes. He transferred the shirt to his other hand,began waving it again.
When next he looked, he saw that the vessel was changingcourse, coming toward him. Had he been stronger and lessemotionally drained, he might have wept. As it was, he becamealmost immediately aware of a mighty fatigue and a greatcoldness. His eyes stung from the salt, yet they wanted toclose. He had to keep looking at his numbed hands to be certainthat they maintained their hold upon the barrel.
"Hurry!" he breathed. "Hurry... ."
He was barely conscious when they took him into thelifeboat and wrapped him in blankets. By the time they camealongside the ship, he was asleep.
He slept the rest of that day and all that night,awakening only long enough to sip hot grog and broth. When hedid try to speak, he was not understood.
It was not until the following afternoon that they broughtin a seaman who spoke Dutch. He told the man his entire story,from the time he had signed aboard until the time he had jumpedinto the sea.
"Incredible!" the seaman observed, pausing after a longspell of translation for the officers. "Then that storm-tossedapparition we saw yesterday was really the Flying Dutchman!